Innocently Wicked
by padawanjinx
Summary: Young elflings Elladan and Elrohir enlist the help of Glorfindil to help educate learnedtheir father in language, but unfortunately, things go wrong and lessons are painfully learned.


**Innocently Wicked**

Disclaimer: I don't own anything in the Tolkien universe and I make no money off of writing. YET! EG

: Picks up where "**The walls have pointy ears**" left off. Read that first to get an idea of what is going on. 

Summary: Little elflings, Elladan and Elrohir, twin sons of Lord Elrond of Rivendell, have learned some new words. Words they shouldn't have overheard, but like most children, learned them faster than average and used them, much to the irritation of their father. Misinterpreting their fathers anger over the words, the twins, having come to the conclusion their father doesn't know the words, are on a mission to educate their father, with the help of a certain guard. Unfortunately, things don't always turn out the way they were planned.

Twins are about equal to 5 year old humans.. I don't know the conversation for elves, but you get the idea.. they are little ones. J 

Rating: G the only curses here are in elvish and have been made up by me

Archive: Sure, though I have no idea why you would want it. Just let me know ahead of time. 

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Twin pairs of feet scuttled down the halls of the elven haven of Imladris. Identical fair faces, contorted up on concentration, sped past many adult elves, some leaping out of the way of the two for fear of injury. No one stopped the two on their obviously important mission.

As the twins neared the door to the head guard of Imladris, they skidded to a stop, pausing briefly to catch their breath. Tentatively, Elladan knocked on the door to the guards' room, the sound muffled on the large wooden door. Elrohir exchanged an irritated glance with his brother, before grabbing the door handle and turning it, allowing the two entrance.

The room was as one expected for a guard. Small bed in corner, layered with pillows, assortment of clothes hanging in the open closet, vast assortment of weapons lined the walls and corners, sitting high on shelves or resting on specially designed holders. The room was very spacious, which was perfect for workouts, which the occupant was currently engaged in.

Glorfindil, head guard and close friend to Lord Elrond was standing in the evening sunlight flooding into his room, casting it in hues of red and orange. His posture straight, muscles tensed, eyes closed, and a faint trance of perspiration on his brow as he slowly went through self-defense maneuvers with his favorite weapon, an Elvish sword from the First Age. Everyone who watched the elf practice knew that the control and balance between the wielder and the weapon were as one, both deadly when shone their edges, and quick to deliver a fatal blow.

Both Elladan and Elrohir had seen this particular katta only a few times, knowing it was difficult and extremely dangerous, giving the fact that the one performing the tasks would have to be highly skilled, and also very trustworthy. At any moment, the blade on the sword could slice through the air on a feigned counterattack, thus injuring spectators or worse, the one manipulating its power.

Complete and utter concentration had to be in the mind and a steady hand to control the most precise manipulations of the weapon had to be empowered by the elf performing the katta.

Elladan glanced at Elrohir, a look of sheer excitement on his face. He had loved to watch the performance of this ancient battle dance on the rare occasions it was executed, mainly by the senior guards.

Elrohir bounced quietly on the balls of his feet, his eyes growing wider than saucers as he remembered the move coming next. Both twins watched in silent fascination as Glorfindil spun, his hands arching gracefully through the air, then snapping back and striking, the sword poised perfectly in a shielding manner along the elf's forearm.

Elrohir, ready to explode with barely suppressed glee, held his breath.

Taking a step forward, the Rivendell guard, with eyes still closed, concentrated on the angle and balance of his approach, then with feline grace, flipped lightly in the air, landing on the ground with a muffled thump, and crouching down low to the ground. The ancient sword stretched from his hand down the length of his arm, the sharp point mere centimeters from the Elfs' neck.

Elladan bit down painfully on his lip, fearing the maneuver, then sighed silently as it was executed with finesse and precision.

Now, the next step involved the sword, flipping on its side, and sliding down the outstretched arm span of the elf holding it. The blade would easily slip from the hand, travel down the back of the neck, and end up in the opposite hand, ready for a series of spins and whirls. 

Unfortunately, Elrohir, no longer able to contain his enthusiasm, blurted out, "That was great Glorfindil!"

Hearing his name shouted broke the guard's concentration, right at the moment when the blade was to flip to its side for easy glide across the armspan. Instead, the sharp angry edge channeled deep into the elf's shoulders, the bone grating against the slight serration of the blade along the neck, and travelling over the other shoulder and ending with a slice into the limp wrist of the now screaming guard. With a dull clatter the sword fell to the ground, unable to be manipulated by the skilled hands of the guard.

"Ell'brenia loh' echlean me' arnna!" Glorfindils cursed as his eyes shot up to see who had disturbed his concentration and fell upon two faces, identical in every way, right now to the sheer horror etched upon them.

The anger instantly faded but the pain didn't. Glorfindil tried to rise, but winced, inhaling sharply as his wounds protested the movement. Large stains of crimson spread over his shoulders and down his back. Reaching up to grab a handhold to help himself rise, the elf cried out in pain as his opened skin peeled back further from bone along his neck, exposing even more tissue and encouraging more hemorrhaging. 

"I… I sorry." Elrohir sniffled, his voice barely audible even to elven hearing.

Gathering what little energy he had, the guard looked sympathetically to the now opening crying elfling. "I am not mad. Please do not cry." Breathing now became difficult due to the surge of pain that raced through the injured elves system. He gasped a couple times, desperately trying to quell the pain, but it was no use. The wounds were too deep and the damage too extent. 

Elladan stood, his eyes transfixed at the sight of blood spreading over his friends body. The little elf had seen his share of blood before, but only in small amounts, usually do to scraps or other childhood injuries. He had never seen it flow so freely, or pool up on the floor, especially from someone he held dear. The elfling felt fear and helplessness fill him. An overwhelming urge to scream, cry, or do anything that would stop the blood flowing from Glorfindil, but the only thing that made sense, and would help the situation, filled the little ones chest in an instant. 

Taking the deepest breath he could, Elladan raced out of the room and screamed for the whole of Rivendell to hear. "ADA!! GLORFINDIL IS HURT!! ADA!! HELP HIM ADA!! HELP HIM!!"

Lord Elrond, so gentle and graceful, literally jumped a foot in the air at the sound of his sons terrified voice. Forgetting his former tirade directed towards his councilor and advisor, the elven lord ran full force towards the anguished cries of his son. Erestor and Golradir, both close to the twins, raced after their lord, concern and fear rising in their hearts at what they would find.

Within a blink of an eye, Elrond tracked his sons pleas and arrived at the door of his head guard. Little Elladan was standing just outside the door, his fair elvish face gray with grief and his blue eyes overflowing with tears.

"Ada!" Elladan gasped through sobs, "Do not get angry. It was an accident."

Kneeling in front of the crying child, Elrond wiped the tears away with a gentle brush of his fingers. "What has happened Elladan? Tell me. I will not get upset."

"Glorfindil was doing his exercises and we interrupted. He got hurt." Elladan whimpered, pointing in the room to where Elrohir was standing over the now unconscious form of his head guard, who was lying motionless on the floor.

Erestor and Golradir cradled Elladan against them, allowing Elrond to attend Glorfindil. The elven lord felt his heart well up with pride as he saw Elrohir pressing his small hands against the wounds across the guards shoulders, trying his best to cover as much room as he could to stem the flow of blood. His eyes were closed; his face screwed up in concentration.

Elrond knelt beside the youth, covering the child's hands with his own. "Elrohir, you have done well my son, but I need to check the wounds."

Elrohir opened his eyes slowly, staring at his father. "It is my fault Ada. I yelled at him when he was practicing. I know it was dangerous, and I could not stop myself."

"It will be alright little one." Elrond assured his son. "But right now, I need you and Elladan out of my way so I can help Glorfindil."

Elrohir nodded his head, tears starting to trace down his cherub cheeks as he left the room and folded into the arms of Erestor.

After a quick inspection, Elrond called for guards to help him take Glorfindil to the healing ward to be treated. Elladan and Elrohir stayed coddled against the advisor and councilor, sobbing quietly into the thick robes of the adults, who held them tightly and whispered words of reassurance. 

It was long past dusk when Lord Elrond emerged from Glorfindils room. His face was drawn with fatigue and his eyes shone with dim satisfaction. He approached the two cradling his children, both of whom were dozing slightly along with their charges.

Golradir startled slightly, then raised a questioning brow at the elven lord when he seated himself next to the advisor.

Elrond smiled weakly and answered, "Glorfindil will recover. He lost a lot of blood and went into shock, but he is out of danger now. How are Elladan and Elrohir?"

Erestor cradled Elladan against him, and smiled at the small elfling in his arms. "They have had a very interesting time."

"Indeed," Chimed in Golradir, holding a now snoring Elrohir in his arms. 

Elrond looked curiously from one to the other, "Did they say what happened? Glorfindil did not regain consciousness and could not explain."

Erestor looked into the face of the Lord of Rivendell, a strange twinkle in his eyes. "It seems that your sons believed you were angry because they used words you did not know. "

Golradir added with a smile, "They came to Glorfindil to ask how to write the words so they could make you a note. They did not wish you to feel left out."

Elrond, though thoroughly exhausted, couldn't help the wide grin that spread across his face, one that was mirrored in the faces of his sons when they were up to mischief. "They believed I did not know the words?"

Erestor suppressed a chuckle as he nodded, "Yes My Lord Elrond. They thought you were not learned in the meanings of their new words. They wanted to educate you."

Perhaps it was fatigue, or the sheer absurdity of the situation, but Elrond couldn't stop himself. He doubled over with silent laughter, his hand covering his mouth in an attempt to muffle the hearty mirth shaking the elven lord straight through the soul. After a few minutes, the wise elder being regained his composure and settled himself back against his chair.

"Though I would prefer to postpone certain education, I believe it is time the twins need to learn a few things." With a heavy sigh, the Elven Lord rubbed his eyes, feeling the urge to sleep creep deep into his bones. "Maybe it is time for them to learn what is appropriate in conversation, and what is not tolerated in my house."

"I think they have learned what happens when one does not watch their words." Erestor said quietly.

"They have witnessed rage and uneasiness, then witnessed the consequences of outbursts, one I feel they will not forget anytime soon." Golradir added, his tone muted as to not disturb the child asleep in his arms.

"Perhaps it was a lesson to us all." Erestor put in thoughtfully. "We do not always know the consequences of our words, therefor, should choose them clearly and when appropriately."

"And though our anger may get the best of us at times, we must still be wary of what we say." Elrond said. With a small incline of his head, he apologized to the other two. "I did not mean to lose control over my temper. I do not hold you responsible for the language. It was something I should have taught them a long time ago. The folly was mine."

"A lesson for everyone, all within a day." Erestor noted with a slight smile. 

Golradir grinned and smiled at the little one curled up against him. "It does not matter our age, we are always learning. Sometimes adults are just slower to learn than children."

Elrond smirked at his two friends, then his gaze shifted to the two sleeping children. "They should be in bed, it is late."

The two adults rose, snuggling the children tighter against themselves.

"You need your rest My Lord.." Erestor said. "We will see to it that they are tucked in."

Elrond nodded tiredly, his gray-green eyes drooping and his shoulders slumping in weariness. "Thank you my friends. I feel we all need a good rest after the events of today."

With a nod the Elven Lord rose from his seat and disappeared down the hall.

Erestor looked over at Golradir, his own face showing exhaustion. "Well my friend, I do believe we have had a rather enlightening day ourselves."

Golradir sighed and started down the hall, little Elrohir clutched tightly in his arms. "Indeed. Let us hope that _we_ remember our lessons as well."

A small bleary blue eye opened slightly, searching and locking onto its identical twin. With mischief alight in the blue depths, both children closed their eyes and huddled close to the adults carrying them, feeling content and safe, and knowing that tomorrow was a new day for new adventures.

Definitely The End.

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End file.
